Occupo Iugulum
by PrincessIxi
Summary: Vampire's don't have fangs for a reason, you know. But Darren's never been one to listen, most of all to his mentor. Slash, Mr CxDarren


**Title** Occupo Iugulum

**Rating **R-16

**Warnings **Vampire bites, slash

**Category **The Saga of Darren Shan

**Paring **–Mr CxDarren (shota)

**Author's Note **In celebration of the coming of the Vampire's Assistant movie. And the manga. Yah to Arai for giving Mr C some justice. I'm not really a believer that this pairing is shota, because even though Darren is physically in his early teens, mentally-human years- he's in his thirties at this stage in the series. And I'd rather shot myself in the foot than say Mr C is physically any older than late 30s, early 40s.

Or I am in so much denial it's sad.

Occupo Iugulum is Latin; meaning "Seize the throat" in Engrish.

I'm very annoyed with myself for using a cliche theme, you know it's pwp, and if your easily offended and the such, please go else where. I also feel I should have a NC-17 version of this.

**Disclaimer **I don't need to own Master Shan's characters. He writes them slash enough as it is. Spoilers from books 1-7, set half way through book 7

* * *

It feels nice to finally get out of the Cirque.

As much as he loves the eccentric big house, nothing bets wrapping his arms tightly around his mentor and being flitting at top speed through a Chicago lit city. Darren is definitely a city boy at heart, even though his vampirism disallows this, he still loves every second of the neon lights zig zagging passed them, the deep purrs of hundreds of cars and all the rich smells of coffee and home cooked meals that slap at his heightened senses.

It's almost like it used to be, before they decided to join up with the other vampires in Vampire Mountain nearly six years ago. Much has happened over the years, so many of his friends dead, becoming a Prince and given the quest of defeating the Lord of the Vampaneze, joining the Cirque again and even seeing Evra grow up- hell, he has a flippen _family_ now- and leave him behind. . . Mr Crepsley must have noticed his sour mood grow over the last few weeks, and has finally spared him a moment of his time and taken him out just like he used to when he was still young and inexperienced. Of course he still _is _that, but he doesn't need constant surveillance like he used to.

Darren still isn't sure how this flitting business works, because as far as he can tell, Mr Crepsley never runs any faster than he normally does, but he must _somehow _be moving at phenomenal speed judging from the blurring lights. He slows slightly as they flit down a busy main street- Darren isn't too sure what city this is, but his mouth waters at the thought of finally- something pink. No wait. _Everything _is pink. The shops are _lined _with pink toys, balloons, boxes. Holy heck, even the_ flowers_ in the flower baskets hanging above shops are pink.

"Wait! Stop!"

Thinking something is amiss, Mr Crepsley stops at once- the main street is deserted save for a few drunks that won't even remember the red cloaked man and scruffy boy that suddenly appear from nowhere. Darren climbs off his mentors back, and runs over to the brightly lit up shop, pressing his fingers eagerly to the glass. The older vampire follows at a distance, bright lights not agreeing with his eyes.

"Hah! I knew it," Darren spins around to grin triumphantly at Mr Crepsley, who cocks a patronising eyebrow at him. "It must be Valentine's Day sometime this week," he guesses, because his internal calendar has never been right since the day Mr Crepsley blooded him. The ginger haired man doesn't share in his enthusiasm.

"You stopped me for this?"

"But of course," Darren smug smile is still in place, arms folded. "This is the first holiday I've been aware of in all my time with you. Hell, don't think I've even celebrated Christmas let alone my birthday with you," he adds as an afterthought. "So there's no way I'm over looking this."

"What exactly do you plan to do?" Mr Crepsley can't help the spread of a fond smile at his assistant new found childness again- however judging by his voice and attitude he is still just humouring the boy. Darren picks up on this and pouts slightly but instead of being baited, he asks a question instead.

"Well what do_ vampires _usually do on Valentines?"

Mr Crepsley snorts as if in disgust, turning his back on the far to pink window display with bears' bellies and balloons exclaiming _I wuv you _in twirly writing. "We do not _do_ anything. Valentine's Day is just a ridiculous human ritual- like Christmas. Not to mention a time for business men to relish in scamming everyone out of their money."

Darren shots Mr Crepsley a suspicious look. He'd certainly answered that very _quickly_. "Hmm. You used to be a human too you know. Though that was back when the _dinosaurs _roamed the earth," he adds in a snicker, but the vampires sharp ears pick most of it up and he shoots Darren a cutting look.

"_What_ was that?"

"Nothing," Darren widens his cat green eyes innocently. He coughs slightly, then grins back at Mr Crepsley. "If you won't tell me what vampires do, then what did _you_ used to do back in the heyday?"

"Watch it, boy," the vampire growls, self consciously rubbing at the unfortunately placed scar that cuts up his left cheek. "And I think you would do well to keep your nose _out _of where it does not belong."

"Fine," Darren childishly pouts again, waits until Mr Crepsley turns his back on him once again before adding slyly. "What about Arra? I bet you celebrated it with he-" he has to jump back quickly in order to dodge the swipe the vampire sends at his head- rather like what a lion does when scolding a naughty cub.

"Darren-"

Mr Crepsley uses _The Tone,_ which Darren remembers his parents and school teachers using on him whenever he disobey _them_- but he's curious! "Aw, come on! You _said _I could ask you anything. Actually, _Seba _said I should ask question whenever I wanted, and that you should let me and even _answer _some of them- _remember? _All I want to know is what do vam-"

"We bite them."

"-pires do- uh _what_?"

Looking disgruntled, and not in any inclination to repeat himself, Mr Crepsley sends him _The Look _which frankly is just as bad as _The Tone_. Darren wriggles slightly, but barrels on because he _is _a vampire Prince and refuses to be intimidated. "But wait- I thought you said we _shouldn't _bite people because it gets really messy."

Mr Crepsley closes his dark eyes as if in pray to the vampire gods to give him patience. "Yes Darren. But I am not talking about biting a person who is a victim. I mean you bite the person you want to be with- on "Valentine's Day,"" he adds scathingly, like Uncle Scrooge not believing in Christmas.

Darren thinks about that. "Is this part of the wolf thing?"

"Excuse me?"

"The _wolf _thing," Darren exclaims, like Mr Crepsley is_ completely_ missing the bigger picture. "Vampires are descendants from wolves, right?"

"Or so says legend."

"_What_ever. I was just thinking that maybe the biting thing comes from wolves, because don't they normally bite the back of their mates head whenever there, well, mating? And you even said that Arra was your mate."

Mr Crepsley has that pained look on his face whenever Darren asks one question to many. It's obvious the vampire sometimes thinks what life would have been like if he'd blooded Steve instead. Possibly a lot more _quieter _at the very least.

"I think that is enough queries for today, Darren."

"I'm not _asking_. I'm just _speculating_-"

"Do it in your head then," the old vampire snaps grumpily, hoisting Darren onto his back before the little brat can ask anything more, and flits off in search of their very overdue meal.

* * *

Darren knocks loudly on his mentor's caravan door, knuckles grazing on a realistic painting of Madame Octa on the hard wood.

It takes half a minute before the door finally opens, and it looks like he's caught Mr Crepsley just before he curls up into his coffin to sleep. He doesn't look particularly annoyed at being disturbed this early in the morning, possibly because he's been well fed the previous night when they were out together.

Yet that doesn't stop his expression changing to that of being weary because his assistant has that wicked closed smile of his like he's hiding a big secret.

"Can I come in, Mr Crepsley?" he asks innocently enough. Being polite for a change is probably what gets him through the door. In an indication to be quick, Mr Crepsley tugs his red cloak off his shoulders and nudges at his coffin lid.

"Can I help you, Darren?"

"You sure can," Darren knows he can hear the snicker in his voice, because Mr Crapsey glances over his shoulder, but Darren hasn't moved yet, save for shutting the door and the enclosed space becomes that much darker, the only light from the lonely lantern on a foot stool, even the early morning sun is sealed out by the black paper that lines the windows. "Would you do me the favour of sitting down and closing your eyes? On the coffin lid will be fine."

M Crepsley almost snorts at Darren's business like tone, and is slightly uneasy about closing his eyes because it's _Darren _in the room, and he can be little mister unpredictable at times. Darren's smirk widens when at last the vampire complies. Striding forwards, Darren is a little disappointed at the lighting, but it's just bright enough to get his point across. Standing directly in front of his mentor, he gives his kneecaps a tap to let him know he can open his eyes.

And when he does, Darren can't decide if he's horrified, amazed or disgusted.

"Darren, what on eart-"

"Pretty neat, huh?" Darren grin get's larger still, showing off his brand new _vampire fangs_. "Though I have to say, it was a lot harder than I thought it would be, it's not that easy sharpening your teeth. And with a wood shaver no less. But Harkat was a good help."

"-were you thinking!" Mr Crepsley finishes, close to shaking the living day lights out of the idiotic boy. He groans in disbelieve, tilting Darren's head this way and that, but it's no trick of the light. Darren's two canine teeth have been sharpened to two fine tips, sharp like a blade.

"Stop fussing. Their baby teeth anyway. They'll fall out sooner or later and no harm would have been done. Or at least not much. I plan to put these to good use," Darren smirks a little when Mr Crepsley's hands still on his face, and he catches the flash of _oh no _in his mentor's eyes.

"I was _thinking_," Darren begins, crawling onto Mr Crepsley's lap and looking triumphant when he puts his hands on the vampire's broad shoulders and still isn't kicked off yet. "About what you said the other day. About _biting_ people. And I thought how impractical it was, vampires having super strong teeth and all that, you'd probably do a lot of damage with our human structured teeth than if you just had pointed teeth- heck, you might even rip the person's skin off if you're not careful. Then I thought about the old, fake vampire legends. Especially Stoker. I even read some documents on others trying to analyse Stoker's work and well- it looks like my wolf speculation was wrong," Darren's voice lowers like his head, brushing his nose down the curse of Mr Crepsley's neck and bearing his teeth like Dracula himself.

"Darren?" the vampire growls at the feel of the artificial fangs gliding over his neck. "You do realise I was lying about the biting thing."

"Hm? Oh yeah, I asked Vancha about it when we got back yesterday. Said you were full of bull," Darren laughs delightedly at the rare moment of catching his mentor out, almost breaking the tension, but saves himself by clamping his mouth down and easily piercing through the skin in a vicious bite.

Now he get's why Mr Crepsley had warned not to bite a person when feeding.

He's definitely severed more than one vein, because blood is bubbling into his mouth at great speed and down his own neck, staining his shirt red. It's not as satisfying as drinking human blood, it doesn't run as smoothly down his throat and tastes sharper than anything he's ever swallowed before. Kind of like drinking highly potent coffee. Makes you shudder, but you'd grow into it over time. Hm, probably should have asked if vampire blood was poisonous to drink too. . and if the pained hiss and feel of claws digging into his back is anything to go by, another possible reason why biting is a nono is because I obviously hurts. Though that _could _just be the fangs.

Darren get's a hold of himself before he drains the vampire completely, licking apologetically over the deep puncture marks because even though he isn't as strong as Mr Crepsley, his spit still has minor soothing powers.

Then he freezes, hearing Mr Crepsley growl like something feral, and reality comes knocking on Darren's door step. He's in _so _much trouble. Fingers tighten on his biceps, he's forced down onto the coffin lid- it's a wonder the thing doesn't cave in under the force- and the wound still hasn't had time to heal and Darren can hear the soft patter of blood dropping into his clothes.

"Probably want to get that looked at," Darren manages to get a snide comment in before a hand is being wrapped around his throat and hard teeth almost shatter his collar bone. Darren can only manage a choke of surprise at the burst of pain because the rest of his breath goes with the threat of claws barely scratching over his jugular, hearing the fierce rumble in the vampire's chest and the feel of teeth about to rip his head clean off its spine.

Splinters shot up into his nails, and Darren's only dimly aware that's he's about to make a scratching post out of the coffin in a minute but the other- more important- half of his mind is focused on writhing and groaning silently, a quarter terrified his head will be sliced off at any sudden movements, and even with all the chaotic emotions bouncing around he still manages to feel turned on beyond believe. Good time if any to find your masochism side.

Finally the air comes wheezing back into Darren as the pain subsides, and it feels bizarre to have your neck ripped open, then healed a second later by vampire spit like nothing's even happened. So that's how the old bat gets away with biting people. Though he's willing to bet his neck will swelling like anything tomorrow night.

"Have you learnt your lesson, Darren?"

If it's one thing he really admires about Mr Crepsley, it's his collected nature no matter how weird the circumstances. The smell and taste of blood is so strong in the caravan, Darren is sure he could get off on it- and if the Murlough incident has taught him anything- it _is_ possible.

"No sir. May I have another sir?" his sick little giggles fade into a rumbling groan as Mr Crepsley nips down his jaw, and it feels so friggen _good _after the chunk he's just taken out of his neck- and the harsh smell of blood pounds at him as it dribbles and drops down from the vampire's own neck- and it's the first time in ages Darren is glad to be a half vampire.

"Darren?" Mr Crepsley pauses, and _why _is he stopping, Darren hisses angrily, but nods his head anyway. He feels an amused breath puff against his ear. "You need to go now, Darren."

_Going_ is the furthest thing from his mind. He doesn't think it's physically possible to move at this stage anyway. Darren takes a hold of Mr Crepsley's under shirt to make his point quite clear. "I really don't think so."

He doesn't even hide his surprise when the vampire's hands wrap around his own and pull him away, rising stiffly. "But then you would not have been punished. Assistant need to learn their place, Darren."

Darren feels himself burn at Mr Crepsley's smug face- because _damnit _he_'s_ won and _knows_ it- pushing himself up with his elbows and fixing him with a dirty stare. "My status is higher than yours, you know. I could just-"

"And you believe I would listen to you?" Mr Crepsley smirks at the deflating Prince. Picking up the remains of his dignity, Darren slides off the coffin lid ignore the bite of pain from the freshly healed over wound and stalks to the door. From the sounds outside, he guesses that breakfast has just finished.

Darren is about to wrench the door open and give his mentor a blast of harmful sunlight in revenge when a hand drops on his shoulder and Darren turns to ask what on earth _now _before he's kissed and he'll take just about _anything_ at the moment. He wonders fleetingly if it's some twisted apology, or knowing that Mr Crepsley really isn't so nasty under all that- but it doesn't stay very sweet for long. Darren accidently punctures his lip, and not so accidently his tongue –he reminds himself to be careful with his own appendages in the near future- and the grip on his back and neck is none to friendly after that. The flow of blood lessens because as much blood as there is, there is also ample amounts of saliva and Darren's latest bite marks quickly seals up- Darren himself being crushed to the door, intoxicated by the feel of the vampire's mouth and blood and -and that is _not _a good snarl coming from Mr Crepsley. Darren jerks his head quickly away, feeling blood and spit run down his chin and he's in a good mind to flee while he still has _legs _– but sharp nails are running over his hips and flicking over the dome in his trousers and – but sharp nails are running over his hips and flicking over the dome and zipper of his trousers and _yes_ he wants to howl but all that comes out is his own inhuman hiss of hunger-

Then there's light.

And he's falling backwards and the smell of fresh air smacks him like a blow to the face. Darren lands hard on the grass and is granted a brief snippet of brutal laughter from Mr Crepsley before the door is shut in his face.

Darren silently seethes, before remembering. "And a happy Valentine's Day to you too, ya wretched old man!"

And he swears he gets a snort in reply.

* * *

-**FIN**

* * *


End file.
